Page 126 of Scorching the Alien Empire
We back into the corridor, giving us some respite, the pursuing droids obstructed by the doorway. Princesa’s divinity is evident all around us. Thousands of shattered droids are crushed and fused into the very metal of the walls, as if they were crafted from a junk heap of droid pieces.
Yet more droids come, an endless tide streaming from the labyrinthine passages. From the sides, back, and front, they come. The high-pitched crack-hiss continues to streak through the air. Our shields’ low, steady vibrational hum grows louder under the stress of each jarring impact.
“I... I can’t go on,” Razgor utters from singed lips, his trembling shield arm lowering. “I can barely lift my arm.” He blurts a weak, faded laugh.
“RAISE YOUR SHIELD, BERSERKER!” Drexios roars, spitting in his face. “BERSERKERS NEVER SURRENDER, NEVER DIE! NOT EVEN LITTLE SNIVELLING CUNTS LIKE YOU!”
“BERSERKERS NEVER SURRENDER, NEVER DIE!” The other six warriors roar in unison. Their arc blasters fill the halls with ozone and burning metal as their bolts smash into the oncoming horde.
Razgor straightens. His breathing is heavy and ragged, a defiant smile crossing his weary face. “Berserkers never surrender, never die!” He raises his sputtering plasma shield. The wall of brothers reforming.
Why should he die? For my curiosity? That’s why he’s here, nothing more. A waste of his talents. No, this is my burden. Not theirs.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see we’re perhaps halfway. The rooms we destroyed earlier, the terrible memories we can’tescape. Adjoining corridors now ooze hordes of droids. Princesa sweeps them aside, maintaining her graceful stride.
“Do try to keep up.”
Princesa’s earlier words—a challenge.
A challenge to follow. But I’m not the one who follows. I lead. It’s in my blood. As tainted as it is.
This is far enough. From here, I can hold them.
A droid’s blast slams into Razgor’s arm, launching it upward. His shield blinks out of existence as he stumbles backward.
I catch him. “GO!” I roar, hurling him bodily behind my hulking frame. “ALL OF YOU!” My voice thunders over the chaotic din, a deafening command that cannot be ignored.
Behind their shields, the warriors hesitate, exchanging wary glances. The weight of exhaustion is visible in their stance, the sag in their shoulders.
Tharok with the plasma-scorched pauldron, his warvisor snaps to mine, fingers tightening into fists. “We will die honorably with you, great War Chieftain.”
A heartbeat of silence. Pride floods through me as blue fire glints off his warvisor. The bravest and finest warriors in existence. But I will not be deterred. I will not be stopped.
“NOW!”
“Void that, boss!” Drexios snaps, his gaze fixated on the enemy, arc blaster still hissing over his shield. “I’m just getting warmed up.” He pats his pouch of grenades, smirking.
“NO!” I grip the latch of his half-cloak, tossing him behind me like a discarded toy. “YOU’RE IN MY WAY!”
The remaining berserkers nod once, slamming their fists to their chest plates in salute. “May you die a glorious death.” They echo in unison, scrambling backward, retreating quickly behind their shields.
“ARAWNOTH DEMANDS SACRIFICE!”
The Rush blazes through me, scorching through my veins like boiling poison. My eyes weep silvery-crimson, the ethereal plumes curling through the air like ghostly smoke. The world crystallizes—every motion, every breath, every shifting shadow sharpened into piercing clarity. The droids raise their weapons, their movements sluggish, as if mired in honey, lost in the slow decay of time.
“Come back to me,” Princesa’s voice is low, cutting through the battle fury clouding my mind. She tilts her head forward, silver-red eyes burning through the haze. “Or be reborn in strength.”
Brutal. Beautiful.
She turns with effortless grace, striding down the corridor, her wavy blonde hair rippling behind her, black robes sweeping like the mantle of a goddess. The females and my berserkers follow in her wake as azure glows all around, from a hundred shimmering bolts, casting vivid purple over the crumbling walls.
The droids surge forward from the intersecting corridors—a tide of skittering legs and hissing cannons, their pulsing cores flaring in the gloom. They disgust me. Empty husks of metal, daring to challenge me. If they could comprehend even a fraction of my fury, my hatred, the vengeance I will reap upon them, their mechanical hearts would stutter and fail.
I lunge without hesitation, the Rush driving me, my body a blur of raw speed, I’ve never known. Plasma fire streaks past, some missing by mere inches, others slamming into my raised shield. The force jolts my arm, sending a sharp reverberation through my frame. Another impact. Then another. The shield flickers, sputters, and dies with a final shriek of energy. But I do not falter. My teeth grind together, muscles coiled like arcweave cables stretched to the breaking point. I press forward.
The enemy is dense ahead, a wall of metal bodies packed so tightly they can scarcely maneuver. I leap, vaulting over their sleek, flat heads, red sensor lenses tracking my ascent in slow,struggling arcs. For a moment, the air holds me aloft. Then I plummet, boots first, slamming into the horde with the force of a falling meteor. The impact shatters droids beneath me, sending a ripple through their ranks. Limbs snap, torsos crumple—metallic shrieks filling the corridor as the tide reels from the shock.
A nearby droid lunges, its three-pronged clamp outstretched—pathetic.
